


Forever Couldn't Keep This Love Alive

by plerbert (geritapancake)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Death, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Human & Country Names Used (Hetalia), Immortality, Other, Romance, Romantic or platonic, Takes Place In A Made-Up Future, Tragedy, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-06-30 21:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15760479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geritapancake/pseuds/plerbert
Summary: Immortality is a strange thing





	Forever Couldn't Keep This Love Alive

The grips of war were tightening on China’s neck as if it were a noose, it strangled him and suffocated him. Still, he knew he was better off than some of the other countries. A fire like none other had started among them, tearing them apart and starting feuds between them. North Italy had already fallen, the binds of immortality no longer restraining him, the grave now cradling him for eternity. Japan and Germany had all but given up, the toll of loss weighing down on them. They didn’t even try to hide it, Japan going as far as having to excuse himself from a meeting for bursting out into tears at a single mention of the happy-go-lucky country. Though, they weren’t the only ones struggling with the weight of loss. Romano still stood, barely hanging onto life. He didn’t show up to the meetings anymore, and neither did Spain. At this point no one really showed up to the meetings anymore, why would they? To tear at each other's throats and mock scalding hot tears that trickled down bruised cheeks? In all of his long life, China had never seen a war this brutal, he had never felt this much pain, never had to hold back so many tears.

And what of Russia? He hadn’t seen his comrade since the war started. Could he even call him his comrade anymore? Their countries were at war, but were the two themselves at war. And it was then that China decided to think past his better judgment and go visit his old friend before he no longer had the chance. The war was bad, but the thought of never seeing his closest friend again was worse.

 

China didn’t even have to bother knocking on the door, it was already open. It was dark inside, any sign of habitants long gone. It wasn’t always like that though, he remembered better times. Times when laughter echoed through the long hallways and the smells of food drifted through the house. But those times were long gone, buried by the ashes of a thousand wars. And those who stayed and tried to bring those back suffocated. Even after all the wars, all the ash, all the years that had passed since he had been here, he still knew the place like the back of his hand. So as he waltzed his way to Russia’s room, he glanced at the paintings holding onto the walls by sheer willpower. A framed picture of the two hung on the wall, and he remembered that time well. A sunny afternoon, one unlike anything he’d seen in many years, featuring a small happy picnic between the two. Oh, how he wished he could go back to those times, and he silently prayed that the painting would come alive before his eyes so that, even for a moment, he could get lost in that memory. But he knew that would never happen, so he kept walking.

Before he knew it he was at the door to Russia’s bedroom. And he slowly turned the handle and let the door slowly creak open. A loud coughing erupted and without thinking twice, China swung the door open. Russia didn’t even turn his head to see who it was he just continued with his coughing.

“Russia…” He whispered, and the mentioned turned his head to China.

“China? What are you doing here?” He asked, trying to sit up and get a better look at his friend.

“Don’t waste your energy, lie down.” China scolded, and Russia did as he was told. China sat down next to the man, his hair still seemingly brighter than most of the stars in the sky. He ran his fingers through Russia’s hair. He let his eyes get lost, taking in the beauty in front of him. Russia started coughing again, this time it seemed much worse. “I’ll go and get you some medicine.” And he got up to go do just that, but a hand wrapped around his wrist.

“No, there’s no use.” He muttered, but China wasn’t having it.

“Let go,” He protested, prying his hand away from the weakened man. “Did you forget who you are talking to? I can cure any sickness, heal any wound. I can help you, all you have to do is let me.” He sounded so confident, but Russia saw through his mask. China wasn’t stupid, he was just stubborn.

“China. My country is falling, there is nothing left for you to help. Just stay with me.” He cooed, and China took his hand again.

“I can’t just sit here and let you die! At least give me a chance, let me try and save you!” He pleaded. “I ca-”

“China!” Russia barked. “Do not be naive. Nothing will fix this, not even a miracle. And the least you can do is let a dying man have his last wish.”

China took in a deep breath. “Well, scoot over then.” And a soft smile lit up on Russia’s face.

 

A few minutes had passed by, they had been blabbing back and forth about old memories. Russia started to get quite.

“Hey, China?” He asked in no more than a whisper.

“Yes?” He replied just as quiet.

“I’m not sure where we go after this life, but when we both get there, become one with me, да?” He murmured, smiling fondly up at China.

“Of course.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He chuckled softly

It became silent after that, and China was too scared to look back down at the man lying in his arms.

“Russia?” He whispered, slightly shaking him. “You can’t leave me, you know?” His throat tightening as he tried to keep his tears from falling.

Russia drew in his last few breaths with a light laugh. “I love you too Yao.” He whispered faintly. There they were. The words that China had been wanting to hear for his whole life, the words he _had_ heard his whole entire life, but just didn’t know he needed. All gone in the blink of an eye, nothing more than whispers in the wind.

“No…,” China begged, burying his head into Russia's chest. “We can go back. Please? To the old times.”

It was all so bittersweet. He had lived such a long, long life. And for what? To waste it? To still, even after all these years, wish he had more time. He wished he could rewind time, fix the mistakes that, no matter how many times he made, he still didn’t learn from. He had lived a long life, _the longest life_ , and it still wasn’t enough. He was still so _stupid_ ! And because of his long life, he knew this feeling all too well. The one where his heart throbbed, and his throat tightened, and tears threatened to pour from his eyes. It was the end of an era and he had seen it a million times. It was a lifetime of _what-could-have-been_ ’s finally being laid to rest. It was everything he ever could’ve wanted, wilting like a flower right in front of him.

Memories played in his mind as his friend laid there, completely still in his arms. And anger built up inside China, and he breathed in to yell, to scream, to _mourn_. But he didn’t, he couldn’t. Instead, he got up, and he did what his long life had taught him to do, he dried his tears and moved on. Of course, it wasn’t that easy, but his tears were dried weren’t they?

China put Russia’s body into the shallow grave. It took everything in him to not crawl in right beside him, to not just _give up_ . He said his goodbyes, but he didn’t cry. This life called for no mourning, no screaming, no crying. All he could do was smile and stay strong. Why waste breath screaming when you could be singing their praises. “You were good to me, _Ivan_.”


End file.
